I'll Be There For You
by singyourheartout287
Summary: Sam finds a prescription bottle in the apartment and asks Blaine about it, bringing a whole set of issues to light that Sam isn't quite sure he's ready to deal with. But he knows he has to be, because his best friend is hurting, and Sam would do anything for his best friend. Blam friendship, side Klaine and Mercedes. One-shot. TW: Self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety.


_TW: Discussions of self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety. _

… … …

The kitchen's done, the living room's kind of done, and the downstairs bathroom is done. Sam's Saturday Cleaning Spree (per request of Mercedes) is nearing completion, which is good because he's exhausted. Sam had no idea there were so many different kinds of cleaners and he still doesn't know which ones are for cleaning which things. He's pretty sure he used the toilet bowl cleaner on their living room floors, but they're shining and that's all that matters, right? If it shines, it's clean, because there's no dirt to get in the way of the light. Right?

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair-much easier to deal with now that it's shorter-before climbing up the stairs. His and Blaine's shared bedroom door is closed and there's muffled music filtering down the hall, which means Blaine is either studying or sleeping. Sam passes the door and continues on to the end of the hall to the upstairs bathroom.

There's not a lot of work to be done. Blaine's a clean freak as it is and Mercedes is just neat, so the only mess is Sam's. He picks up his dirty towels and underwear from the floor and dumps them in the hamper, then opens the mirror door to the medicine cabinet to find the cleaner for the toilet bowl. Which, as he thinks about it, doesn't make much sense because the cleaner isn't going to fit in that size cabinet. _Duh. _But he's already there, and now his eyes have found an orange prescription bottle.

Ever since his experience at the model house, these bottles have made him uneasy. Sam's never seen a person own one of these for the intended purpose. It's always someone abusing the meds. So the second he finds it, he grabs it and heads to their room, knocking on the door.

"Blaine? You awake?"

He waits a few seconds, shaking and jumping anxiously in front of the door until it opens. Blaine blinks up at him, hair in disarray and skirt twisted to the side. "I am now. Why?"

"Dude, I found these when I was cleaning," Sam says, holding up the bottle.

Blaine stares hard at it for a minute. Sam sees something pass over Blaine's face, but he doesn't know what it is. Finally, Blaine just says, "You're cleaning? I'm shocked."

"Yeah, 'Cedes is making me. She says that I'm too dirty and if I don't keep the apartment more clean she's gonna make me find another place and-bro, this is so not the point."

"So what is the point?" Blaine asks, sighing.

"Are these yours? These pills?"

Blaine's eyes narrow. "Sam, did you even bother to read the label? It has the name of the patient, you know."

Oh. He didn't, actually. He just saw the bottle and panicked. He turns it over in his hands and reads the label.

ANDERSON, BLAINE

FLUOXETINE, 40MG, ONE PER DAY

"So they are yours," Sam says.

"It would appear so."

"What're they for? This drug-fluo...floxi...flexi..."

"Fluoxetine."

"Yeah. What's it do? Is this, like steroids? Or, like, pain pills? Dude, are you a drug addict? Because you know I'd never judge you, but if you are, you need help. I can't let you keep doing this."

Blaine runs a hand down his face and shakes his head. "I'm not a drug addict, Sam."

"Then what are these for? Because I've only seen models with pills and they're never using them for the right reasons and I'm only trying to look out for you, man."

"Your intentions are honorable, buddy, but I'm fine. They're not for anything bad and I only take one a day, just like the label says."

"But what are they _for_?"

Sam waits, jittery and impatient, for Blaine to answer him. Blaine bites his lip and reaches out for the pill bottle, and Sam pulls it away from him at first. But then Blaine gives him a look and Sam figures that they are his pills after all, so he hands them over. Blaine rolls the bottle around in his hand, eyebrows knit together and lips pulled tight. There's something bothering him about these pills, Sam can tell. What he can't tell is whether it's bothering him because he's abusing them and he's been caught or he's using them right and the pills are for something he doesn't want to talk about.

Either way, it's started now, and Sam's not turning back. Blaine is his best friend and he deserves to know what is going on in his best friend's life.

"Fluoxetine is the actual name for the drug Prozac," Blaine finally says, avoiding Sam's eyes.

Sam thinks, trying to figure out what Prozac is and why it rings a bell, but he can't quite get his brain to make the connection. "Okay, so like, what is Prozac?"

Blaine looks up with tired eyes. "It's an anti-depressant. You know. For treating depression."

It takes Sam a moment to let that sink in, but once he does, all he can say is, "Oh."

"Do you have any other questions? Or can I go back to sleep?"

"Actually, yeah, I have a lot of questions now," Sam says. "Can I come in?"

"It's your room too," Blaine says, pulling the door open fully and stepping back.

Sam walks in and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, facing Blaine's. Blaine takes the same position on his bed and sets the bottle of pills on the dresser between them. Sam waits for Blaine to start, because given the situation it seems like the polite thing to do, but then Blaine raises his eyebrows at him and says, "So? Your questions?"

"Oh. Um... I don't know, I mean, what sort of questions is it okay to ask? I mean, this is, like, a touchy subject, right? And I didn't even know about it, and I kinda feel like you've been keeping secrets from me, but I don't wanna sound like a dick and make it all about me, ya know?"

Surprising Sam, Blaine cracks a smile. "Yeah, I know. It's okay, Sam. You can ask anything you want. If I really wanted it to be a secret, I should've kept my meds somewhere you couldn't find them. It's not a big deal. Look, I'll start, okay? You're probably wondering how long I've been taking them and why I needed them in the first place. I've been on Prozac for about three years, a little longer. Doctors don't really like to prescribe the medication long-term, but every time we tried taking me off the meds, it would backfire and make things worse. I needed them because of Sadie Hawkins at first, which you know about, but then other stuff kept happening. I transferred to McKinley and that gave me a lot of anxiety, and then I settled in there but Kurt left and that sucked, and then we broke up and that sucked even more. It just felt like if it wasn't one thing, it was another, so I begged the doctor and my parents to let me stay on the medication until I'd settled in here, and then we could try taking me off again."

Sam nods, but there's not much else he can do at the moment. He feels overwhelmed, like he's just uncovered something he should've left covered. And he feels bad for thinking that because he cares about Blaine and loves him like a brother and wants him to be okay and to be happy, but this is a lot to take on. A lot more than Sam was prepared for when he asked about it.

But Blaine is his best friend, and he has been struggling for years, and that's the important part. Regardless of how it makes Sam feel, now that he knows about it, he has to do his best to make sure Blaine is good. And the best way to do that, he has learned, is through Kurt.

"Does Kurt know?"

Blaine tilts his head and gives him one of the looks he does when he wants to say _Duh _but doesn't want to be rude. "Yes, Sam, Kurt knows. He's known about this for just about as long as he's known me."

"Oh. So, that's good."

"Yeah, that's good."

"Do they help a lot? The meds?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not something that's really noticeable. There's never a time when I just feel this big switch from depressed to happy. It's just that when I take them, over time, things start getting easier to deal with. They don't change my mood. They just help me react better to difficult things."

"Well, how do you react to bad things when you're not on them?"

Blaine tenses and looks at his feet. The air gets denser, and Sam can tell that he's just asked something he shouldn't have. He would take it back, fumble his way through an apology and move on to something else, but something about this question and Blaine's answer feels important, so he waits. He sits quietly and tries not to fidget too much as he waits for Blaine to answer the question.

Except Blaine never does. Minutes pass, and finally Sam prompts him. "Blaine?"

Blaine shuts his eyes and drops his head into his hands, mumbling to himself. Sam can't quite make out what he's saying, but he doesn't want to interrupt whatever it is, so he keeps waiting. Blaine looks up at him and says, "Sam, if I tell you about this, you can't tell anyone. I mean it. Not even Kurt."

Sam frowns. "I thought you said Kurt knew."

"Kurt knows about the depression, and the medication, but he doesn't know about this. And..." Blaine sighs. "I really don't want to tell you, but we're already talking about it, and you've asked, and I don't want to lie to you. And truthfully I've been wanting to tell someone for a while, but talking about it gives me a lot of anxiety. I should tell Kurt, but I just... I don't want to worry him. I know he'll freak out and make it a big deal and it's _not. _It's just... It's just..." Blaine tapers off and shakes his head.

"Blaine?" Sam says again. "It's okay, dude. You can talk to me."

"I know, I just feel like I should've talked to Kurt about this first, but he's not here and you are and he hasn't asked this and you have and he's my fiancé but you're my best friend and this is a lot happening right now-I mean I knew you'd find out eventually but not right now-and I don't know what to do and-"

"Blaine, come on, clam down," Sam says.

He gets up from his bed and comes over to sit next to Blaine on his, and that's when Blaine just loses it. Sam has seen Blaine cry before, but never like this, and it's a little disconcerting to watch. Blaine falls into Sam's side and clutches onto his shirt, and Sam has no choice but to wrap an arm around Blaine's shoulders and tell him everything is fine. In truth, Sam has no idea if everything is fine or not. From the looks of it, there is nothing fine about this mysterious situation that Blaine simultaneously wants and doesn't want to talk about. All Sam wanted to do was clean the bathroom and now he has an armful of sobbing Blaine and he feels so far out of his depth he almost laughs.

The shoulder of his t-shirt is soaked when Blaine finally pulls away, wiping his nose and his eyes and apologizing for ruining Sam's shirt.

"Don't worry about it," Sam says. "It's, like, cotton or something. I'm pretty sure it's water-safe."

Blaine laughs and his voice squeaks on it. He takes several deep breaths in succession. Finally, he says, "Sam, I think it's safe to say that I don't react well to bad things when I don't have my medication."

"Yeah, I got that."

"I, um... I have a lot of anxiety problems. I don't handle change well, or disruption in my life. My capacity for stress is really low, so when change happens and my stress levels get higher, I freak out and give up and get really depressed. And it kind of makes me feel on edge and jittery, and it gives me this horrible feeling in my gut like something really terrible is about to happen and I just _know _it will and even if nothing really bad is happening, I just _know _it's going to, because I can't get that feeling out of my stomach and-"

"Blaine, it's okay. You're okay."

Blaine nods. "Yeah. Thanks. Anyway, I, uh... To help me with that-to get me back to feeling normal and grounded, I... Well, I..." Blaine pauses, then stands up and begins unbuttoning his cardigan.

"Um, what are you doing?" Sam asks. "Because I'm here for you, whatever it is, but I think this is more something for Kurt to do with you, and-"

"I'm not propositioning you, Sam," Blaine says. He slips his cardigan off his shoulders, then lifts his polo over his head.

Sam gasps. Well, not so much a gasp. It's more of a small intake of breath. So small he's not even sure Blaine heard him. But he can't blame Blaine for not hearing him, because Blaine is probably focused on the same thing Sam's eyes are glued to. His rib cage. All up and down Blaine's sides are scars. A few of them are white but most of them are pink. They've been carved in little lines, each no longer than two inches, running horizontally along Blaine's rib cage.

And there's no mistaking them for anything other than what they are. Blaine has done this to himself, and Sam realizes that this is so much worse than he thought.

"I haven't done it in a while. Not since I've moved here. Well, not for longer, actually. It's something new I picked up to help me cope after my break up with Kurt. I tried it a couple times when I was younger but it just made me feel worse, not better. And then after what I did, after cheating on Kurt, I thought that I deserved to feel worse. I deserved to feel this pain. It was punishment for the pain I was putting Kurt through. And when I'd be going out of my mind, when I thought that it was just too much-that everything was just too much-I had this. And it calmed me down."

Sam blinked up at him. "Dude, you gotta stop. You can't do that anymore."

"I'm not. Like I said, I haven't done it for a while. Maybe four or five months?"

"It's only been a few months?"

"That's a really long time to be clean from this, Sam. It's not easy to give up."

"_How_? Wouldn't you _want _to stop hurting yourself?" Sam asks.

Blaine frowns and slips his shirt back on. "It's a lot more complicated than that."

"So explain it to me!"

"I can't, Sam! You wouldn't understand. The only people that would understand are others who have done this to themselves. And I wouldn't wish this kind of pain on anyone."

There's a silence after Blaine speaks. Sam runs a hand through his hair, completely spent. He wants to know more-there is more for him to know, he's sure-but he feels like he just can't handle anymore right now. He knows it's selfish, because this is what Blaine handles on a daily basis, but this is not Sam's life and he's not used to it yet.

He's found that honesty is always the best policy, so when he opens his mouth to reply, he lets the truth spill out. "I don't know what to do here, man. This is...really heavy. I just-will you promise me you won't do it anymore? Please?"

"Sam, I don't know if I can make that kind of promise-"

"Please. You've trusted me with this, and don't get me wrong man I'm super glad you did, but that means you gotta trust me to help you, too. And I need to be able to trust you."

"Sam-"

"I'm not asking. Look, dude, I don't wanna sound harsh, but I need to make sure you're good. And you can be mad at me or whatever, but you know you need it too, or you wouldn't have told me about this."

By the look on Blaine's face, he knows Sam is right. Sam stands up and pulls Blaine into a hug, because he can sense that he needs it. When he pulls back, Blaine's eyes are watery again.

"I have one other thing to say," Sam says. "And then you can go back to sleep or go to Kurt's place or do whatever you want."

"What is it?"

"You have to tell Kurt. And I'm not saying you have to tell him tonight, or tomorrow, but you need to tell him."

Blaine shakes his head. "I can't. I know he'll blame it on himself, especially given the time it started. There's no way he can know."

"There's no way he can't, Blaine. He's your fiancé. He deserves to know. How have you even been able to keep this from him? You guys have sex, like, all the time."

"I just don't take off my shirt anymore. Usually, he's so ready to get his hands on my dick that he doesn't care if I leave my shirt on."

"Right. Thanks."

Blaine shrugs.

"I'm not joking, Blaine. You need to tell Kurt or I will," Sam says.

Blaine frowns. "I thought I could trust you. You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

"And I won't. If you tell him first."

"You're being really shitty about this."

"No I'm not," Sam says, throwing his arms around Blaine's shoulders and squeezing tight.

Blaine is tense in his arms for a minute, but then he relaxes, looping his arms around Sam's waist and leaning his head on Sam's shoulder. "No. You're not."

... ... ...

Sam doesn't bring it up again the next day. Blaine spends most of it out of the apartment. In the afternoon, Sam texts him and says, _Have you told Kurt yet? _Blaine replies ten minutes later: _No. I haven't seen him. I'm at the library, and then I'm headed to the dance studio. Lots of stuff going on, Sam. That can wait. _Sam knows his best friend well enough to know that Blaine is already agitated at his insistence, but he doesn't care. It's important that Kurt knows about this. More important than Sam knowing. He's glad that Blaine trusted him, but if it was Mercedes doing something like this and she confided it in Kurt, Sam would be hurt that Mercedes didn't tell him first.

_Can it? _is his reply back, and Blaine doesn't text him again after that.

He doesn't come home that night either, which isn't unusual. Sam figures that he's probably staying at Kurt's loft for the night, which happens at least three nights out of the week. How Kurt hasn't seen or felt the scars is beyond Sam, because even though some of them are pretty thin, there's a good number of them that were fairly thick. Kurt must feel them when he grabs Blaine's waist, or wraps his arms around him, or something. Then again, Sam's given Blaine hugs with his arms around Blaine's waist and he's never felt a thing.

It hits Sam a lot harder than he thought it would-how easy it is to hide such a devastating secret. This type of thing should be obvious, shouldn't it? His best friend has been hurting so much that he hurt himself. Sam should know about that kind of thing. He should be able to catch on to shifts in Blaine's behavior that would tip someone off to something like that.

And yet he didn't. He had no idea. And neither does Kurt.

They move their Monday Night Dinner that week to Wednesday because of scheduling issues from various members in their little family, which suits Sam just fine. He's still in that in-between where he hasn't booked a modeling gig yet, so he spends all of his days sitting on the couch in his boxers eating Fruit Loops straight from the box and plays video games.

Except now, he's added stressing about Blaine to his list of activities every day. When Blaine comes home, Sam can't help staring at his sides first before his eyes go up to Blaine's face and he greets him. Even though he can't see anything through Blaine's clothing, he still feels like maybe he'll just have a sense and he'll _know _if Blaine's done it again. But he doesn't, and he's stuck trusting Blaine on his word, because he doesn't want to be rude and force Blaine to take off his shirt or anything.

It's a complicated situation. Blaine was right about that. And Sam has no idea how to navigate it. Mercedes has caught on that he's preoccupied with something, but he just brushes it off as being discouraged that he hasn't booked another modeling gig yet. She comforts him with cuddles and baked goods and home cooking that tastes so good it almost makes up for the lack of sex. Still, though, he can't shake the sick feeling that's been bugging him all week.

So by the time Wednesday night rolls around, he's determined. Even though it hasn't even been a week since Blaine's confided in him, he is determined that Kurt needs to know tonight. He doesn't see Blaine before they're all supposed to meet over there, so he texts him the same thing he's been texting him all week: _Have you told Kurt yet? _Blaine's reply is short and simple. _No. _Sam texts back, _You need to tell him tonight. Or I will. _It's a full thirty minutes before Blaine texts him back, but when he does, Sam knows he's in trouble.

_Why are you so insistent that I need to tell Kurt? I told you and that's enough. It was supposed to be our secret. I was supposed to be safe in confiding in you. I can see now that it was a mistake and I never should have said anything. I am doing just fine, Sam. I haven't done it in months, like I said. If you're this concerned, then fine. You tell him. You deal with the look on his face when he hears about it. You watch him cry and blame himself. Go ahead._

Sam doesn't reply to that. He knows he's pushed too far, but he stands by it. With something this serious, Kurt deserves to know. No matter how mad Blaine gets at him now, Sam knows he's doing the right thing.

He may not be the smartest guy around, but he knows right from wrong and he does his best to do the right thing at all times. It's just who he is.

When he and Mercedes arrive at the loft that evening, they're greeted by Rachel opening the door. Sam's first thought is how good Rachel's boobs look in that tank top, but then Mercedes nudges him because he's just standing in the doorway and he feels bad for staring at Rachel's boobs. Even if they do look really good.

His second thought is that Kurt looks happy. Like, really happy. He's laying on the couch, his legs over Blaine's lap, and Blaine is absentmindedly drawing patterns on Kurt's thighs. Apparently, Blaine has just said something that's _really _funny, because Kurt is laughing his ass off and Blaine is grinning at him.

And now Sam realizes why Blaine didn't want to tell Kurt. Because how could anyone want to ruin something like that? Especially after all they went through with the break up. They were finally happy again. Sam couldn't ruin that.

Blaine was right. It could wait. Seeing them now, Sam couldn't figure out why it was so important to him that Kurt know anyway. He could handle it on his own for now. If Blaine was being honest and he really hadn't hurt himself in five months, then maybe this would be easier than he thought. Maybe Blaine was doing really well. Maybe Sam could be there for his best friend, and he alone could be enough.

"Hey, guys!" Kurt yells, still chuckling. He wipes at his eyes that have gathered tears from laughing so hard. "Sorry we had to move the dinner. I'm glad you're here!"

"Artie's on his way," Rachel tells them, smiling as she sets down a salad bowl on the table.

Mercedes nods. "That's cool. I need a chance to breathe before that boy rolls in here telling us about his latest crush anyway. I swear, Artie is such a player."

"I know!" Rachel exclaims. "He dated Tina, which made sense. But then he dated two of the hottest cheerleaders in school-Brittany and Kitty. I mean, he's got game!"

Kurt snorts and says, "Rachel, don't ever use that phrase again."

"What?! It's true!"

"Oh, come on, don't be so mean! Artie and Kitty were really cute," Blaine says.

"Okay, nobody better mention Kitty when he gets here," Mercedes warns. "I don't want him crying again."

"Look, all I'm saying is that Artie is really impressive. I admire him! That's all," Rachel says. She starts setting out wine glasses around the table.

Sam catches Kurt and Blaine sharing an amused look before the door slides open and Artie rolls in. He throws his hands up and says, "Whattup, y'all? I have arrived! The party can officially begin!"

"Yeah right," a disgruntled voice says from the hall. Santana appears behind Artie, still dressed in her diner uniform and hair in a messy ponytail, and says, "_Now _the party can begin."

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be back in time for dinner!" Kurt says.

Santana rolls Artie in further and slides the door behind her, going straight for the freezer and taking out a bottle of amber liquid. She throws it back and takes a gulp, wipes her mouth, and says, "I quit."

"You _quit_?" Kurt asks.

"We needed your income, Santana!" Rachel says.

Santana narrows her eyes at Rachel and snaps, "Yeah, well, I'll find another job. One where my boss doesn't grab my ass every five seconds and look at me with leery eyes. I'm not about to get raped at work so you can have your HBO and Showtime. Deal with it."

Everyone goes quiet. Sam doesn't know what to do, and he's getting the feeling that it's not just Blaine's situation, but adulthood in general that's out of his depth. He knows what growing up means, he knows you have to deal with the hard stuff that you didn't like to talk about when you were younger, but he doesn't know _how _to deal with it yet.

"Well, thank god you quit then," Kurt says. "And slow it down on the liquor, we have wine."

"How are you guys getting so much alcohol?" Mercedes asks.

"Kurt and Blaine have _hilariously _terrible fake IDs, but mine happens to rock. So I get the hard stuff at the real liquor stores and Kurt or Blaine get the cheap wine at the regular grocery stores," Santana says, screwing the cap back on the liquor bottle and stowing it in the freezer again.

Rachel breaks out one of the wine bottles from the fridge, then grabs one from the counter, and says, "Everyone sit down and tell me red or white!"

Dinner has begun, it seems, so Sam grabs Mercedes' hand and follows her to the table, sitting down beside her. She smiles at him and leans over to kiss his cheek, and he can't help but smile back. No matter how complicated or messed up Sam feels, when Mercedes smiles at him, he can't help smiling back. Her smile makes him happy.

"You look cute tonight," she whispers to him, nudging her shoulder with his.

He looks down at what he's wearing and shrugs. "I just threw on some stuff."

"I know. But most of the time it doesn't match and this does. It's a step up! I like it."

Sam laughs. "Thanks, babe." Rachel has reached them and holds up the bottles to Mercedes, asking which she wants. As always, Mercedes turns her down and asks for water. When Rachel sets the bottles down and goes to get the pitcher, Sam leans over and whispers in Mercedes' ear, "You look gorgeous tonight. For the record."

Mercedes gets that special smile on her face that she does when Sam's said something right and he does a mental fist pump.

Then he glances across the table at Blaine and Kurt, who are also in their own world, talking low to each other. Kurt's eyes are really squinty and his teeth are showing as he smiles, and Blaine is looking at him with those eyes that make even Sam's stomach feel funny. And he's straight as an arrow. But if that look in Blaine's eyes is what love looks like, Sam can't wait until he falls that hard for Mercedes.

"God, there are too many couples at this table," Santana grips.

Rachel, having finished pouring everyone's wine, sits down at one of the heads of the table. Kurt gives her a sympathetic smile before turning to Santana and saying, "Don't be bitter, dear. It's not a good look on you."

"Don't be haughty, Hummel, it's not a good look on you."

"I'm surprised you know what haughty means."

"Guys!" Mercedes says. "We're supposed to be having a _family _dinner. Can you at least attempt to be civil, Santana? I know you can do it."

Santana sighs like this is the most taxing thing in the world and says, "I guess I'll try."

"Yo, are we gonna eat or what?" Artie asks. "Because I am _starving._"

They eat and talk, and talk and eat. There's lots of laughter and only a few awkward silences. The loft is filled with the joy of a gathering of friends, and it makes Sam feel lighter than he has all week. He can't help glancing over at Blaine every minute or so, but every time he does, Blaine doesn't look anything but happy. And Sam can't figure out how someone who can look so happy can also sit alone in a bathroom or bedroom with a knife to his side.

After dinner, Blaine volunteers to wash the dishes, so Sam volunteers to dry them. It'll give him a chance to talk to Blaine alone and tell him about that he doesn't have to tell Kurt now, that it can wait. He hopes that it'll relieve some of the tension that's been happening between them lately, because Sam just wants his best friend back.

They're standing at the sink together, Blaine with his hands under the running water and Sam standing to his left with a dry dishtowel at the ready. Rachel has gone to take a shower, Santana is on the couch watching TV with Mercedes and Kurt, and Artie has left to go finish up a short film he's working on.

"So, I've been thinking," Sam starts, making sure to pitch his voice low so no one can hear him over the running water.

Blaine raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at him. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I think you're right. Maybe we shouldn't tell Kurt. At least not right now."

"And what made you change your mind?"

"Just…seeing how happy you guys are. What you said earlier, about Kurt crying and blaming himself. I mean, he just looked so happy when me and Mercedes got here. He's looked happy all night actually. You have too. I just…don't want to ruin that. If this is really something that happens when you're unhappy, then I think we're okay. You know, for now."

"Uh huh," Blaine says, sounding skeptical. He continues washing dishes, not looking at Sam even as he hands him a dish. "So you're going to drop it then? You won't harass me about it anymore?"

"No. At least, not for now. But I do want to make sure you're okay, dude. When you promised me you wouldn't do it anymore—you meant it, right?"

Blaine finally looks up at him and nods. "Yes. I meant it."

"And you're gonna keep it?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep. If I thought I was still a danger to myself I would have said as much and I wouldn't have made the promise."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. As long as I know you're good. And you know you can talk to me now, right? If you're struggling or something. I'm here for you, bro."

Blaine smiles and bumps his shoulder against Sam's. "I know, Sam. Thanks."

"No problem."

"And thanks for understanding that I don't want to tell Kurt."

"Tell Kurt what?"

They both jump and turn around, seeing Kurt standing right behind them. He raises his eyebrows at them and says again, "Tell Kurt what? What are we not telling me?" He's smiling and his voice is teasing, but after a minute of looking at Sam and Blaine's faces, his smile falls. "No. Seriously. What's going on?"

"Shit," Blaine mutters, dropping the bowl in the sink.

Sam places the towel on the counter and says, "Sorry, dude."

Blaine shakes his head. "No, that was my fault."

"What are you two talking about? What do I not know?" He looks between them, staring hard at both of their faces. "Sam? Blaine?"

"Let's go talk on the fire escape," Blaine says, reaching out his hand for Kurt to take.

Kurt frowns at it and turns around, heading there on his own. Sam gives Blaine a sympathetic look and says, "I'm sorry man. I'll be right in here if you need me."

"Thanks."

"Good luck."

Blaine nods once and follows Kurt out onto the fire escape.

"What was that about?" Santana asks.

Sam shakes his head. "It's nothing." He goes back to the sink and finishes washing the last few dishes. When he's done, he turns around and chances a glance out the window. He can see Kurt and Blaine on the fire escape, Blaine with his hands clearly trying to placate Kurt and Kurt crying and shaking his head. Kurt's yelling at him, and Blaine looks close to tears himself. Santana notices and turns the TV down so they can hear what Kurt's saying.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Mercedes says.

"There is something much more entertaining going on right out there," Santana says.

Mercedes follows her gaze and frowns. "Santana, that is so not cool. They're obviously having a really bad fight. We shouldn't be listening in on—"

"So you were just going to keep this from me? For how long?" Kurt's muffled voice says.

Sam flinches.

Blaine's voice is much quieter and Sam can't hear it at all. But whatever he says makes Kurt shake his head.

"This isn't something you can keep a secret! I mean, god, do we need to get you a therapist? Should I be worried you're going to—going to—"

Kurt breaks off into a sob and Blaine immediately goes and wraps his arms around him. That's when Sam marches over into the living area and turns the TV back up loud enough so they can't hear.

"Hey!" Santana protests.

Sam shakes his head. "Not our business, Santana."

"Maybe we should go…" Mercedes suggests.

The window opens and Kurt crawls back through, paying the people in the living room no attention as he goes into his bedroom. Blaine follows him, much more subdued.

Sam grabs him on the shoulder and asks quietly, "Are you okay?"

Blaine sighs and shakes his head. "It's not good."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No, it's fine. You can go. We'll work it out, and I'll…I'll just see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Sam nods and lets Blaine go into Kurt's room, then turns to Mercedes on the couch. "You ready to go?"

Mercedes stands up. "Sure."

They say their goodbyes to Santana and then Rachel when she pops out of the shower on their way out. The walk home is pretty quiet, which Sam appreciates. He doesn't know what to feel about everything that's happened tonight, honestly.

"So, um… Seemed pretty intense. Between Kurt and Blaine, I mean," Mercedes says after a while.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"You know anything about it?"

Sam hates lying to Mercedes, so he just says, "Yeah."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. I can't really talk about it. I promised Blaine I wouldn't tell anyone."

"No, it's okay. I understand. Are they gonna be okay?"

"I think so."

"Did I hear something about a therapist…?"

Sam bites his lip. "Like I said. I can't really talk about it."

"Yeah, it's cool. I just thought I'd ask. I didn't want to gossip, I just wanted to make sure my friends are okay."

"Yeah," Sam says, nodding. "They're okay. Or, they will be."

Blaine doesn't come home that night, which is not surprising to Sam, who spends the whole night tossing and turning. When the sun comes up and Sam hasn't slept at all, he admits defeat and gets out of bed, heading downstairs for some Cap'n Crunch and _Halo. _Mercedes is still asleep, so he plays with the volume all the way down and does his best to be quiet.

At around 8 o'clock, the door opens and Blaine comes in. Sam sets the controller down and turns around on the couch. "Hey."

"Hey," Blaine says, nodding at him. He wipes a hand down his face.

"You guys didn't sleep at all either?"

"Not even for a minute."

"How'd it go?"

Blaine comes over and collapses on the couch next to Sam, groaning. "It was bad, Sam. Really bad. For so many reasons. Because of what I was doing to myself, because I didn't tell him, because I _did _tell you, because he insisted it was because of him. We spent the whole night alternating between arguing and crying. At one point, Kurt just broke down and held me and kept saying over and over again how much he loved me."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That sounds…" Sam trails off and doesn't finish.

Blaine nods. "Yeah. It was." He runs his hands through his hair—which, by the looks of it, is about the hundredth time he's done it in the past hour—and sighs. "God, I can't believe the past nine hours just happened. I just… God, it was a lot. And it was hard. But I mean, it was for the better, I think. It's good that he knows."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I hated keeping this from him. It was killing me. It's better that it's out there, in the open, and I don't have to hide from him anymore."

"Well that's good."

"Yeah," Blaine says again.

One second, he's nodding and staring at their dirty coffee table, and the next minute, Blaine is sobbing into his hands, saying over and over, "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do."

Only days ago Sam would have panicked. He would have thought that this situation was for someone with more experience, who could handle it, who would be better equipped to comfort a sobbing man.

But now, Sam feels more ready. He scoots closer to Blaine and wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulders. Blaine reacts immediately, ducking his head against Sam's neck and clutching his shirt much like he did when he first told Sam only a few days ago. Sam pats Blaine's back, because it's supposed to be comforting, and says, "It's okay, Blaine. It'll be okay. Kurt just needs a minute to take it in, to process. This is a lot to take on."

"Yeah, I know, I deal with it every fucking day of my life," Blaine says. It's the first time Sam's ever heard him curse. He looks up at Sam and asks, "Are you saying I'm a lot to take on? Am I too much?"

"No, no," Sam says. He shakes his head and nudges Blaine's face back into his neck, holding the back of his head. With anyone else, the embrace would be way too intimate for two guy best friends. But Sam knows that it's what Blaine needs, and he knows now that no matter what, he's going to be what Blaine needs. Because at the end of the day, all Blaine needs is a friend, and to know that he's cared for. "You're not, Blaine. You're not too much. You're my best bro, and I wouldn't want anyone else but you. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"Really?"

"Yeah, dude. You're my brother. I'm here for you, always."

Blaine sniffles and sits up, blinking his eyes. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam shrugs. "No problem."

But Blaine shakes his head and insists, "No. Seriously. Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you. Especially during the break up with Kurt, if you hadn't been there for me, I don't know what I…"

"I know," Sam says. "It's okay. You don't have to say it." He pauses, watching Blaine wipe at his eyes and try to compose himself again. "I love you, man."

It seems to be the one thing Blaine most needed to hear, because as soon as Sam says it, Blaine is bawling again and falls back into Sam's side. He stays there for another half-hour, just crying and apologizing and crying some more. When he's done, he sits up and wipes at his eyes again. Sam can see that Blaine looks incredibly awkward and knows that being that vulnerable was probably hard for him, so he offers a game of _Left 4 Dead _to distract them. Blaine smiles gratefully and accepts his controller, settling back into the couch.

They spend their entire Thursday playing video games. Sam still can't help glancing at Blaine's sides every now and then, but now he knows that there will be nothing new there. He trusts Blaine enough to keep his promise, just like Blaine trusts him enough to cry into his shoulder. Multiple times. And Sam thinks that maybe he's not so unprepared for adulthood after all.


End file.
